Friday, January 2, 2015

Last year was not my easiest year. I had my challenge in
many areas – love, driving, school, living independently – but none has been
more challenging than being open about my autism.

It started with a school project. I was taking a class on
social work for large-scale social change and the final project was a
presentation addressing a grand social challenge and proposing some methods of
change. I chose to address providing work and school opportunities for autistic
young adults, as services for that population are largely unmet (50,000 people
on the spectrum turn 18 every year in the US). It was a subject that hit close
to home, as I didn’t know where to turn for support when I left high school almost
a decade ago. God knows I still feel I need a lot of help transitioning into
adulthood.

Throughout the semester, I began to wonder if disclosing my
autism diagnosis to the class (and later the faculty at the final presentation)
would help me give a more rounded and effective presentation. It was a weighty
decision as in the past I had selectively told only a few people I felt I could
trust. There’s a lot of pressure on autistic people to present themselves as
“normal” (whatever the hell that means) and I wasn’t sure how people would
react to a disclosure of my diagnosis. And I’ve constantly been afraid that
people would hold my being autistic against me. I have long believed we
live in an ableist world, and that people often don’t take kindly to those different from the norm. I had mini nervous breakdowns over the decision
and almost dropped the class because of it.

In the end, I stayed in the class and I disclosed my autism in
my final presentation. My professor, classmates, and faculty expressed
admiration at my openness and commended me for a great presentation. And yes, I
got an A in the class.

With that experience behind me, I started to think about the
value of being openly autistic. I haven’t had any bad experiences since I
started telling people about my being on the spectrum (something that still
surprises me) and being able to be honest has been kind of freeing. Before last
year, autism was something of a personal burden – I was Sisyphus pushing a
giant autistic boulder up a hill, trying to prevent it from rolling down on top
of me. I was so frightened of judgment and so ashamed of being different and certain
that I’d be seen as a problem rather than as a person. But after that
presentation, I began to see that there was a benefit in being open – I didn’t
have to lie or hide, I could advocate for myself, and I could share my
experiences and perspective to demystify what people think autism is.

I don’t have to be Sisyphus, or at the least I can let my
boulder roll down without fear.